To Love A Monster
by ravenende
Summary: World War II has just ended. Traumatized from recent events, Japan had lost an abundance of his memories and needs Russia to help him. However, surrounded by the destruction of his country, it seems as if Japan will never recover his memories and become the country that he used to be.
1. In The West

He had barely noticed the little blue-black haired little Asian boy that had always sat quietly in the meeting room. That never spoke a word, but always sided with the strongest nation. With the flag of the rising sun, splattered red with blood and death, he fought mercilessly. This man, Kiku, was probably the only man he was interested in. Japan, the land where the sun rises.

While Japan was simple, sophisticated, calm and wise, Russia was rash. Russia was strong, quick and heartless. The meeting room constantly referred to him as "the monster", but Ivan Braginski knew what he was. Russia was the force that no one messed with. Even America kept his distance. He liked it that way, the world preferred it that way.

Russia touched his lips, even through his gloved he could feel how rough they were. Chapped and bleeding from the cold that was awaiting him outside. General Winter was with him inside, however, and had his hands placed on Russia's broad shoulders. Even through his thick winter coat Russia could easily feel the sheer cold of Winter's hands, his clothes soon froze to his very skin. That would be painful to remove later.

Winter was a tall man, his icy hair hidden beneath an old Russian generals hat. His cold grey eyes were currently boring into Canada who was obviously uncomfortable. Winter was a powerful man, so powerful that no one dared to mess with Russia while Winter was at his side. Russia was no fool, he knew that Winter was his greatest ally in any battle. Russia often used Winter as a double-edged sword. Best of all, Winter really didn't care. If Russia were to, say, die in a horrible accident? He'd be able to torment Russia's descendant. No harm done.

The meeting room shivered. Winter enjoyed flaunting his powers every once in awhile. Though Germany had already felt Winters full force, Winter felt like it was his duty to show everyone how horrifying it would be for them if they dared to even think about messing with his precious Ivan. Russia was the only one in the group that was still breathing steadily and normally, a soft puff of smoke briefly dancing in front of him before it vanished into the cold air.

General Winter smiled in spite of himself, his smile just as cold as his heart, and he kissed Russia sweetly on the cheek. Against pale skin a blue-black mark appeared beneath Winters lips just before he vanished into thin air. Russia smiled warmly, Winter was like a father to him. Or, at the very least, a good friend. Winter was the only person that still stood by him. But everyone else would learn...and they would learn the hard way...

But Russia knew what that black kiss meant. The winter Russia would have to endure would be harsh. Russia would suffer for years, all no thanks for Germany. If he had just stayed away, the deal wouldn't have needed to be made with Winter in the first place. Oh well, Winter was acting strange anyways. It was time for Winter to have some fun. Germany shivered even though the room, upon General Winters disappearance had returned back to normal. His skin was an odd shade of blue, and Russia couldn't help but laugh at him. Childishly, he pointed at him.

"You fought dirty." Germany growled.

Russia smiled evilly, like a cat that had trapped a mouse, "Why don't you tell that to Winter, da?" Germany scowled, "Let's see if he agrees."

"You just wait until summer, Ivan." Germany threatened.

"Then what? You'll have four months of good marching weather? Good luck." Russia taunted. Germany held his tongue.

"You should have kept our agreements with Russia." Japan, who had been quiet through Germany's usual chatter, snapped. His chocolate eyes were hard.

"Don't you worry Kiku, you keep your cute little boots off my snow, and I'll keep mine out of your ass." Russia laughed. America, who normally didn't agree with Russia, smiled. Japan looked like he wanted to throw up, giving Russia a disgusted look. Russia smiled at him, his face hard. Japan looked away, he had already lost a way with Russia and even though Russia had more casualties, Japan was practically terrified of that man.

Even as the second World War began to fade, Russia kept his eyes on the little Japanese man. Every time America destroyed one of his armies he fought mercilessly all the same, a hidden fire in his eyes. Russia watched, watched carefully as Germany lost. But Japan led on and a fear grew in Russia's belly. He had grown to care for the nation, and really didn't want to see him hurt.

At this time, Russia paroled his part of Germany, making sure everything was in order. General Winter brushed his shoulder. Russia stared at him, shocked. Winter had never once left Siberia, no matter what the circumstances were. The sight was one of the scariest things Russia had ever seen and, deep down, he wished that he was delirious. But as Winter spoke, his icy voice sending chills down Russia's spine, he realized that it was all too real.

"Something is wrong..." Winter explained, his ghostly form barely visible. This wasn't his territory, and it wasn't cold enough for him to stick around. After a moment, Winter continued, "There is something in the wind. Very unsettling. I fear for your sake."

Now, Winter was not afraid of loosing his victim. He feared for the small boy he still saw in Russia. The small boy that fought against him every chilly winter, still having the strength the next year to fight him again. Who, despite the torment, still clawed his mark in the world. Who, through all the hate, kept his nation together. He saw that little boy, clutching his scarf close to his face, huddling close to his sisters for the warmth he so desperately needed.

"In the West, wind tells me of death. Of a god-like destructive power that as been unleashed. Its mark escapes me, but I fear for the red...and the white." And with that Winter faded, slipping back into whatever ghostly realm he belonged.

'In the West?' Russia thought, shrugging. 'Red and White...' Who cared? If everyone wanted to kill each other,then fine. Leave the Soviets out of it. That's what it boiled down to. Keeping him, his sisters, and his friends safe and out of reach.


	2. Little Boy

A couple weeks went by and not a sign of death or Westly power, other than America keeping Russia from getting a big head, was seen. It seemed like everyone else had gotten something out of the war, but all Russia got was a kick in the butt for wanting a little land. That little chunk of Germany wouldn't have been missed. Then again, America hated communism, and that was the only reason the Soviets couldn't have Germany for themselves.

Japan was cool this time of year, the wind blowing softly in the urban town. Japan, who had wanted to go to war with his soldiers, was forced to stay home. A quaint little house in the middle of nowhere, close enough to major cities that he could walk to get his groceries, far enough away that he didn't have to deal with people if he didn't want to. His boss wanted him around, sitting in his house, for morale. Japan, personally, didn't understand how just sitting around watching people walk down the street did anyone any good. Then again, he wasn't the guy to argue with his Emperor.

There was a long, deathly howl that buzzed through the air. It wasn't really a siren, just the country groaning in frustration at the hundredth siren this day. It wasn't really the hundredth but it sure did feel like it. Just as one was getting used to the nice silence of the early morning, some stupid dick weed had to flip the switch and sound off the call to bunker alarm. It was a long, drawled howl rather than a siren. It made the hair on ones neck stand on end, made their spine tingle, and their eyes widen. The children, even though their parents told them that it was nothing to worry about, still shivered at the ear-piercing wail.

Usually, people would throw their hands up and run to bomb shelters or underground bunkers. Crawl into tiny caves in the side of cliffs, stare at the planes and hold their breath. Terrified that children would be left on the streets to die and houses would burn. Screaming would fill the air and then...nothing. There would be a still silence in the air. The whole island of Japan would hold their breath for a single second. Then nothing would happen.

That was why no one ran to the shelters this time. Everyone kept to their own waddled down the streets with their children on their hips, men in coats walked to their jobs. A little girl peddled her tricycle down the center of the sidewalk. The sun glistened off the white siding of buildings. Birds tweeted, dogs barked, children laughed. It was just another nice day to be alive on Japan.

There was a low rumble. The people stopped and looked around, unsure if it was in their imaginings or if it was real. Children pondered, innocently, if the rumble was a sound or a feeling on the ground. The little girl peddling her tricycle stopped and looked back at her mother, who motioned for her to come inside. There was a stillness in the air, unnatural and frightening. As if the world was warning them of something.

Japan stood from his mat, he could feel the ground rumble under his feet. The rumble grew louder, faster even. It felt like it could be an earthquake, but something wasn't right about it. It was too planned. Too coincidental that the rumbling happened so quickly after the siren. The hair on his arms stood straight on end, a fear crept into the air.

There was a point of light in the sky, so bright that it seemed like the sun paled in comparison. It streaked, lightning fast, and seared its way across the sky. Like a blade it tore the sky open and filled it with a blinding and menacing brightness that blinded anyone who looked at it. Before Japan could even look at it he was knocked over by the ever-growing rumble beneath him. Over the edge of his windowsill he saw a fire. A fire that grew from the ground, standing, and clawed its way to the sky. A black center formed, pushing out a ring of cloud that circled the whole mushroom made of fire. A wind, made of pure power, pushed over anything in its path.

Houses were blown apart like a poorly build house of cards. Streets were uprooted and turned into rubble. Buildings knocked over as if by a child. The air became bubbling hot, thick, impossible to breathe. Japan covered his face with his arms, but the sight he had just saw would haunt him forever.

People screamed a scream that the world had never heard before. A cry that everyone had expected but was not prepared for. A scream that was cut off eerily by ash. Japan stood, insecure of his own footing and stumbled out of his house. His eyes burned, his throat was on fire, and his skin felt like it was trying to melt. He looked up again, shielding his eyes with his hand. The fire that shone so menacingly in the background, from this distance, didn't even look bigger than his hand.

A woman next to him looked at him, clawing her way out of the rubble of her home. "The war...is..."

Japan shushed her, pulling her out of the rubble. She stood, leaning on him for support. "We will remain. We will prevail." Japan gave her that promise. One that he didn't even believe in.

He helped her over to his home, half of which was completely destroyed. But it was better than sitting out in the middle of nowhere, waiting for something to fall on them. There was no point in moving at this point. There was nowhere to go. Not with the monster raging in the distance.

Suddenly, without warning, it began to snow. A gray sleet that cut its way towards the ground, gritty and thick. Japan looked at the woman beside him, her breathing shallow and soft. He knew she would be dead before the day ended.

Japan ran for nearly three hours. He stopped, nearly collapsing, something glinting in the sky caught his attention. There were three instruments floating down to the ground. The parachutes jutting out just before they hit the ground. Japan frowned, it was barely eleven.

"Where are the sirens?!" Japan screamed, people turned and looked at him. Realizing who he was, they stared wide eyed. "They're here to kill us all!"

"What?!" They all looked at each other. "The Soviets wouldn't bomb us." Japan took a step back,. They had a point. Russia didn't even have a bomb yet. He remembered whenever America had first created a huge destructive power, but only the allies knew of its true workings. Russia turned practically purple and stomped out of the meeting room. Russia had nothing like what happened in Hiroshima.

The people were stirring, there was a coldness that filled them. A sudden sense of dread. It was far away, nearly ten miles. There in the cloud-break were two aircraft high over the city. No red markings. No horn and tusk. It was as grey and cold as the Americans that piloted them.

Japan gasped for air. He knew what was coming next. He didn't know why or how he knew, but he knew what was next. He was terrified. There was nothing he could do. A man saw his face, realizing what the aircraft meant, or at least thinking he did, he exclaimed "Why are they doing this...mass extermination?" Japan looked at him. "What can we do?"

"Nothing..." Japan admitted, biting his own tongue. "But hide and hope."


	3. Forbidden Message

Russia could see it in the distance. The fire that shot its way into the sky. The power that blew over buildings, destroying everything it touched. He shivered at the power of such a thing. He wanted it. He needed it.

The buildings turned to ash before his very eyes. Effortless against the power of the torch. How simple..

He looked at his boss, his violet eyes fiery "Make it better." His boss nodded, leaving the scene. Suddenly something caught his attention. There was a small port right by the water. His violet eyes widened, his skin crawled. An anger built up inside of him. This wasnt the origional target. America had cheated him.

Something else snapped him out of his purple rage, he looked around feverishly. Kiku was missing...no one had reported where he was...His spies had been unable to find him, scared of being anywhere near a big city.

"Kiku!" Russia screamed, jumping from his ledge and dashing off towards the city of ash.

Japan clawed at the ground, dragging himself along. His nails ached, his arms throbbed, but what hurt the most was the thing through his leg. There was no way he could get off the ground. There was nothing but ash surrounding him. There was no sign of anyone. Not a sound could be heard over the deafening crackle of death that the bomb still screamed. Everyone seemed gone again. Gone in one foul swoop of the hand. Erased from existence without a care in the world.

All the bomb cared about was death, taking as many people with it before it went out. Ash battered against Japan's skin, like tiny pricks of thousands of needle. It was the same ashen snow that had fallen at Hiroshima. The same ash that had made him ill, that made his skin crawl, that made his very bones weaken and ache. Blood seeped from his wound, mixing with the snow to make a sick mud that Japan pushed through.

Japan wasn't crawling to escape the terror that was Nagasaki, but towards a little raven haired girl who was shivering on the ground.  
She was in the fetal position, cowering against the pitiful remains of what was possibly her home. She was grief-stricken, weeping from the agony of loosing everything she had known. As soon as she saw Japan, though, she ran towards him. Brushing the hair out of his face, she smiled, and for a moment that smile meant everything to the fallen country. It was the smile of hope, of prosperity, of security.

"The war... is over..." Japan said softly. The girl cradled his head on her lap, allowing him to fall into a deep darkness.

A tall man, dressed in dark tan, with broad shoulders ran close. Against the background of black ash, burnt people, a destroyed world, he looked beautiful. However, no matter how beautiful this country was...she would not allow him to take hers without a fight.

"NO!" The girl stood, allowing Japan to slide onto the ground limply, his head lolling over to one side. Russia gasped, was he too late? Was Japan lost? Before he realized it, the girl leaped onto him and sunk her teeth into his shoulder. Wincing from pain, Russia flung her off of him, but she retaliated with out even a moments hesitation. She grabbed a piece of concrete and chucked it at Russia's head. The concrete shattered, accomplishing nothing but pissing Russia off. It was in this moment that most people would have froze, cowering before the doom they had met. But this girl was different and watched him curiously. She, strangely enough, reminded Russia of Japan.

"I AM THE STRONGEST NATION IN THE WORLD!" Russia warned, picking up the defeated nation before she could stop him. This time, the girl did not attack him, but stood there with a look on her face that could have killed him.

"That's not what the Fat Man told me." The girl said, her voice like those of lost prophets. Russia flinched, his mouth agape, shocked at how rash she had been. How did this strange child know...

"I will kill that American bastard." Russia promised, disappearing into the ash.

And so did the little girl.


	4. Shikata ga nai

Japan opened his eyes quickly, as if he had just slept through the most important meeting of his life. Perhaps he had. The ground was softer than he had remembered sleeping on, the meeting room floors were never this comfortable. Looking around, there was no way Japan could see through the ink-black darkness that had shrouded his room. Something itched the bridge of his nose. Lifting a heavy arm, his fingers searched his face. His chin, his neck, his nose, the wrappings across his eyes and forehead.

No wonder he couldn't see anything. Slowly he peeled away the gauze that had been protecting his eyes from whatever they need protection from. As the gauze was lifted away, Japan could clearly see his room being dappled with the soft light of the outside world. It was lovely, but irritating. How was he supposed to do paperwork if the whole room was dark? But...why was he in his bed right now anyway? Just a moment ago he had been in Tokyo, sending off a message to America refusing to surrender. Had he been ambushed on the way back?

He attempted to stand up, a searing pain crawled from his left calf and up to his hip. He hit the ground with a strong force, unable to bear with the sealed it. He was ambushed by Russian spies or American soldiers on his way back home. But what exactly happened?

As if calling his name, Japan crawled over to the radio. The broadcasters would know what was going on. They would probably mention whatever accident had happened to him. Kiku Honda was a well liked man in Japan, after all, and the people would demand to know if he was well.

What he heard next nearly put him back into a coma.

"People of Japan." It was Emperor Hirohito. Japan had, honestly, only heard him speak outward a couple of times. He was a hard man to understand, always speaking in a more formal and lesser known dialect. Never once had Emperor Hirohito ever spoken on the radio. For most of Japan, this was their first time hearing his voice. "The enemy has begun to employ a new and most cruel bomb, the power of which to do damage is, indeed, incalculable, taking the toll of many innocent lives. Should We continue to fight, not only would it result in an ultimate collapse and obliteration of the Japanese nation, but also it would lead to the total extinction of human civilization. We will have to endure the hardships of surrender and submit ourselves to save not only ourselves, but the world."

Japan stared at the radio, his hands shaking. His whole body shook, he put his hands through his raven-colored hair. His eyebrows furrowed together he forced himself to his feet, ignoring the pain in his leg, and walked painstakingly to his window. Using the wall to keep the weight off of his left leg, he peered outside. Usually, he could count on the swaying of emerald grass, of flower blossoms dancing through the air, the sweet smell of the countryside. This would not be one of those days. Against his own will he let out a cry so horrid that it caused even the Russian guard to shiver. Japan turned on his heel and ran out of his room, running just outside of his door.

For a moment he stood, staring at the demolished city before him. The ash from burned down houses stained the ground and rubble littered every street. The whole town was swallowed in a grey depression that it may never recover from. Not a single bright color could be seen, not a single tree was left standing, and even the grass had been turned to an ashen soot. Japan's usual resolve was broken in an instant. His whole country, his whole life, everything he had ever wanted was gone. For no reason. He hung his head in sheer disbelief and sadness.  
*"Shikata ga nai." A Japanese woman said, sifting through the rubble. Her once pink garments were tattered, burned into her very skin, and had been dyed the same color as the ash that began to fall from the sky. "Shikata na gai, Kiku."

Japan looked at her, "Hai, shikata na gai."

Japan stood, looking at his broken and devastated land. He turned to go back inside his house, the Russian guard pretending he wasn't watching. Japan shot him a nasty look before going into his home, slamming the door behind him, and locking it tightly. The Russian guard thought nothing of it. If his country looked this bad, he'd slam the door in someones face too.

The Russian man unzipped his black uniform jacket, revealing a light lavender scarf wrapped loosely around his neck. Tightening his lavender scarf, he resumed his position in front of the doorway. If Japan wanted to shut himself off in his room, that was fine with him.

Everyone would become one with him soon anyways, da?


End file.
